Masterpiece
by MotherofSephy
Summary: A story writen for English class. Hell is a place where the wicked go-but it has many disguises...


Grace SorianoPeriod 5January 23, 2008

**The Masterpiece**

Blood strewn courts and mangled bodies filled the walls of the bastion. Bits of human flesh covered the white marble floor. Silent murder could be heard all around. There was no battle however, only ruthless murder. No one was prepared for the horrendous fight.

Unarmed soldiers and men unsuited for fighting were spread about in jumbled messes. Several severed body parts lay in bloody heaps, the sickening smell of rotting flesh and blood attracted insects. The corpses of small children were in a massive pile along with women and elder folk.

There in the darkest corner of one of the courts stood a bloody figure clutching the severed head of a woman. Blood dripped onto the white marble floor. The sallow eyes of the woman's detached head looked blindly at the slaughtered folk. The dark figure breathed heavily, emitting warm air from its nostrils. It smiled, bearing its sharp, blood-soaked teeth. He swayed trying to remain standing. A deep gash was visible on his skull and chest.

He began to laugh nearly dropping the severed head he carried and looked into the eyes of the woman and snorted loudly, "Heh, heh! You imprudent bitch, now look at all these people. I killed them all with my bare hands. I slaughter your father and mother, your sister and brother. And I killed you.

"I told you that I would and you didn't listen. Heh, heh…" Then he glared at his beautiful portrait he created—the dead bodies scattered about the court—and looked on proudly. He forced the lifeless head to look at his masterpiece.

"See what I have done?" He laughed balefully and then proceeded to look back into the cold, dead eyes of the woman's head, small amounts of what was left of her blood dripped from the bottom of her severed neck. The monstrous man knelt down and sipped her blood that stained the white marble floor, smiling callously baring his sharp, blood-soaked teeth. His bloody lips almost cracked and seemed out of place smiling—as if he had never smiled before.

Then, he threw the head into the mass of other corpses and body parts. He snickered again and began to walk away from his masterpiece that he created in the court, the fetid aromas of decaying bodies and blood that had filled the white marble court. He reached the wall of the courtyard and suddenly stopped. He leaned forward clutching at the wound on his chest and began to vomit. Blood and brown liquid spewed from his mouth. His throat burned, but as vomited he was smiling. Bubbling, black blood poured onto the ground, staining the floor.

However, as he continued to be sick, he began to laugh. It hurt, but he laughed hard, uncaring of his current dizziness. Sweat poured from his face as blood poured from the wound on his head, but he was unaware. His humor was evil and ominous, but he was hysterical in his fit of laughter.

"And what did you gain by murdering all these people?"

The figure turned around quickly, wiping his mouth clean. Before him stood a beautiful man in black costume bearing a sword unlike any other. He wore a dark cape and tunic as well as black leggings. His pale face glistened and seemed divine among the blood-strewn court.

"I thought I told you to get out of here," the figure grunted, angry that his bloodbath had been disturbed. "I told you that I don't need your help. Besides, these people deserved to die. They were weak, and the helpless deserve to die. I will rid this world of all who are weaker than I am. You see that girl"—he pointed to the lifeless head of the woman—"She was my favorite kill. She actually put up a fight."

The man in black frowned. "You are a very sick man. Now, come with me."

"Like hell I will," shouted the figure in the shadows. His dark, black eyes glared angrily at the man. Razor-sharp teeth were bared and bloody hands clenched into fists ready to strike. "On what authority do you think that you can tell me what to do? I could kill you too."

The man in black smiled. He drew his sword. The blade was dark and the sword stood nearly as tall as the man, but he was able to wield it easily. In an instant he drove the tip of the blade through the figure. "Now you belong to me."

Crimson paint from the bodies of the dead stained the sword. The figure's dark eyes turned light and he clutched at the wound given to him by the sword. More blood spewed from his mouth. Tears fell from his eyes as the life drained out of him. He gagged, forcing himself to stay awake, to stay alive.

"You bastard," he ranted. "What does this gain you?"

The beautiful man with dark hair down to his waist looked at the evil figure. "Now you will belong to me forever. You slaughtered these people unthinkingly. You have done the worst thing any man could ever do—murder. But you…_you_ went beyond murder; you made a masterpiece of death. And for that…I love you."

He walked over to the dying man and gazed into his eyes. He studied the murderous figure and nodded happily. "You are the perfect piece for my art." Then he reached over to the dying man and rested his lips upon the figure's. He kissed the man for several minutes, draining the last of the life from him. Then he backed away and stared at the lifeless body.

It was odd; it seemed so out place among the other corpses, as if it were not even a human. The beautiful man in black wanted to move the figure away from the massacre. He lifted the figure's lifeless cadaver and carried it out of the court and beyond.

"You will live with me forever, my love, in my kingdom…in hell."

4


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